The future of the Internet is at stake if the public does not step up and let its voice be heard in favor of opening unused TV airwaves for Internet use, according to FreePress.net, a media reform watchdog group.

In addition to the presidential election, Nov. 4 is the date the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) will vote on whether to open unused television airwaves to Internet use nationwide. Opening these so called "white spaces" could provide affordable Internet access to hard to reach rural areas, where are much as 75% of TV airwaves remain unused. In urban areas, where spectrum use is unsurprisingly crowded, opening up the white space would provide some additional breathing room.

SXSW may be months away, but it's never too soon to start name-dropping the hot shots who'll be flooding town come March. And the first drop's a doozy – Todd Haynes (I'm Not There), one of the most respected and influential independent filmmakers of the last two decades. According to a SXSW press release sent out this morning, Haynes will participate in a conference talk with Richard Linklater, who recently premiered Me and Orson Welles at the Toronto Film Festival. Other confirmed SXSW '09 panelists include Col Needham, founder of imdb.com, and Jan Harlan (producer, Barry Lyndon, The Shining). For more info, check out the SXSW Film official website.

Perhaps it’s human nature to want to sit at the foot of the successful and try and ascertain how they did it and see if there is something in their story you might be able to mimic. When it comes down to it, everyone makes it in their own way, as TV writer Greg Daniels revealed. Daniels with this year’s recipient of the Outstanding Television Writer Award given by the Austin Film Festival. He, along with fellow honoree Danny Boyle (recognized for extraordinary contributions to filmmaking) were the guests of honor at the AFF's annual awards luncheon. Afterwards, Daniels took center stage for one of several, "A Conversation With…" presentations to share his story and reflect on his career.

The creator of the U.S. version of The Office developed his writing chops writing for Not Necessarily the News, Saturday Night Live, The Simpsons, King of the Hill, and various other jobs along the way, paying his dues and learning as much as he could — even from the not so hot jobs (anybody remember Let’s Party starring Cheech Marin?) But even the wrong turns and dead ends were opportunities Daniels appreciated.

If anyone had doubts that there’s change afoot in TV land, sitting through these two, contrasting AFF panels made it perfectly clear. Examined side by side, the panels offered a vivid snapshot on the state of televisual viewing (this term borrowed from TV Studies maven Sharon Ross).

It’s clear that people want content, but where, how and when they watch it is the big thing that’s changing, and not everyone is happy about it. The Titans of TV panel, featuring writer/creators Tim Kring (Heroes), Phil Rosenthal (Everybody Loves Raymond), and Greg Daniels (The Office), bemoaned the rise of the Internet, mostly because it was seen as a threat to their income, along with lingering fears of piracy and the exploitation of their labor to create content in addition to their regular and extraordinary work load (as in “webisodes” shown on network websites. (The annoyance seems misplaced, but that’s a whole other subject.)

Johnny Tesar is an American eccentric. As amateur archaeologist and would-be entrepreneur, Johnny collects more than seven thousand rocks and crystals around Pigeon Forge, Tenn., exhibits them to the public in his trailer, and attempts to convince archaeological academics that his collection describes an ancient civilization. Unfortunately, Johnny also finds himself implicated in the slaughter of seventy-three rabbits at Bunnyland, a miniature golf resort he once managed, and later, in the death of a woman killed when a fire breaks out in one of the shoddily constructed cabins he has built and rented-out on his mountain property. Through these disparate misadventures, director Brett Hanover attempts to weave a story of backwoods Americana, but his film is poorly judged. While this documentary's failure to find an overriding viewpoint might be forgivable, less so is the sneering attitude of condescension the filmmaker shows to the predominantly poor, uneducated cast he enlists to tell Johnny’s story. Bunnyland screens again Thursday, Oct. 23, 8pm, at the Dobie Theater.

Yesterday I went to the Paramount to check out the AFF screening of Role Models, the new big-budget comedy from director David Wain (Wet Hot American Summer). From the flash-mob parade of zombies on Congress Ave. regaling those of us waiting in line with cries for “equal rights!” and, of course, “brains!,” to the less flashy, less living-undead mob scene inside the packed theatre - where the laughs came easy, often, and loud - the mood could best be described as raucous and partisan. Role Models is about two self-involved 30-year-old men (played by co-writer Paul Rudd and perpetual Stifler Seann William Scott) forced by court order to take part in a child-mentoring program. It co-stars Superbad breakout Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Christopher Guest Company player Jane Lynch, and several of Wain’s co-conspirators from the mid-Nineties comedy troupe the State. Of course, the real star of the movie is Elizabeth Banks. I say that not because her role is the biggest or her performance is the best but rather because her appearance is the most significant. A movie star for just a few years, Miss Banks has quickly become the most ubiquitous, most sought-after, and perhaps most powerful actress of her generation. She is the rare Hollywood hinge, a performer who appears in seemingly every movie – defying the laws of time, space, and physics as she goes – who can all but guarantee box-office success with her imprimatur. She’s a predictor of a film’s success, proof of a director’s influence, a barometer of Hollywood sensibilities, an arbiter of public taste. She’s a talisman, a good-luck charm, a sorceress, warding off evil spirits and putting bodies in the seats. Was there a Hollywood before Elizabeth Banks? If so, how did it survive? And how did it recognize itself?

The young, mildly hipster, NPR-listening couple Dax (Cy Carter) and Olive (Mary Elizabeth Ellis) are in nearly every scene of writer/director Mo Perkins' A Quiet Little Marriage, which hums along on a central conceit: When Dax discovers a grand deception being perpetrated by Olive, instead of confronting her, he embarks on an equally devious strategy. The plot is a matter, then, of waiting to see who learns the truth first. But there’s little suspense in this placid, lovely-looking movie, and not enough explained about the two main characters. Each is given one other person to talk to – an irresponsible, alcoholic brother for Dax and a near-mute elderly father for Olive. These supporting characters cause worry for Dax and Olive but don’t provide any perspective on the happy-except-for-that-huge-lie couple. As a result, the film feels claustrophobic and a bit too thin to hold interest. A Quiet Little Marriage is meant to be a study of a relationship, not a revelation, although the ending holds an unexpected development that’s pitch-perfect. A Quiet Little Marriage screens tonight at 7pm at the Rollins Theater

Tiny, theoretical formulae have been making huge news lately, and not only on Wall Street. Scientists in Switzerland recently turned on the CERN Hadron Collider, a massive “atom smasher” with a 14-mile circumference designed for the express purpose of discovering the sub-atomic building block of the universe, dubbed the “god particle.” Unfortunately, CERN is glitchy and currently offline, which is likely cold comfort for their American counterparts at the Fermilab in Batavia, Ill. They’re the subject of The Atom Smashers, an engaging, smart, and often wryly humorous look at the men and women (and couples) who man the front lines of scientific discovery in an America where science is not only no longer “cool” but is actively being barred from political discourse. Such is the fate of these unsung, genuinely heroic scientists, as they race against time to beat their “competitive collaborators” in Europe while funding cuts and a potential Nobel Prize keep them working around thr clock. Smart like Einstein and cool like Einstein with his tongue sticking out, Clayton Brown’s tight doc may well be the only film you ever see that makes you long to be a particle physicist.

A few personal items lost at a rural train station provide the links to connect a variety of characters that might not otherwise realize the other exists in this poetic Japanese import from writer/director Nobuyuki Miyake. Achingly sad, yet astonishingly lovely, Miyake’s tender film features many lithe performances that could have easily devolved into intransigent melancholy. Instead, the gentle pacing, the natural light, the clean images, the austere colors make you sink into every moment of this film. No image, no glance, and no movement is superfluous. Even a constantly simmering teapot kept by an aging officer at the lost and found office manages to swell with meaning and provides a centering image for the viewer to return to. If there’s a lesson to be learned, it’s not the singsong adage that a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met, but that the singularly human experience echoes through everyone in a thousand different ways. Lost and Found screens on Wednesday, Oct. 22, 7pm, at the Arbor.